Little Pollie | Page 6

you let me have a new-laid egg for
mother?"
The woman took an egg from a basket and gave it to her.
"If you please, is it quite fresh? because mother is so poorly, and I want
it to do her good."
The shopkeeper looked at the earnest little face, and somehow felt she
could not tell an untruth to the child, the brown eyes were raised so
trustingly.
"Well, my little gal, I can't say as it be quite fresh, but it's as good as
any you'll get about here."
"Then I'd better not have it," said the child, giving it back to the woman
again; "only I did so want to get her something nice for her tea,--she
can't eat much." And the lips quivered with suppressed sorrow at the
disappointment.
"Why don't you get her a bit of meat instead?" asked the woman;
"that'll do her good, I warrant!"
"Will this buy some?" questioned the child with brightened eyes, and
opening her hand she showed the shilling. "To be sure it will. Here,
give it to me; I'll go and get you one pound of nice pieces at my
brother's next door, if you'll just mind the shop till I come back; you
can be trusted, I see," replied the mistress of the place, whose woman's
heart was touched by the little girl's distress.
Pollie stood where she was left, guarding the baskets with watchful
eyes. Fortunately no mischievous people were about, so the vegetables
were safe, though it was with no small relief she saw their owner return
with such nice pieces of meat wrapped up in clean paper.
"There," said the greengrocer's wife (whose name was Mrs. Smith, by
the way), "these are good and fresh; my brother let me choose them,
and have them cheap too, only fourpence a pound!"

"Oh, thank you, thank you, ma'am!" cried Pollie, holding up her face to
kiss the kind woman, who, totally unused to such affectionate gratitude
in the poor little waifs about Drury Lane, bent down and returned the
caress with a feeling of unwonted tenderness tugging at her heart.
"And now, please, I should like a bunch of water-cresses for Mrs.
Flanagan," said the child. "I know she is very fond of them with her
tea."
"What are you going to buy for yourself?" asked the shopkeeper, as,
after handing Pollie the freshest bunch in the basket, she stood
watching her tiny customer.
The little girl hesitated; at length she said--
"Well, if I don't get something, mother will want me to eat this meat,
and I mean her to have it all; so I'll buy two little pies in Russell
Court,--one for me, and one for poor little crippled Jimmy."
"You're a good gal," exclaimed the woman. "Here, put these taters in
your basket; maybe your mother would like 'em with the meat, they
boil nice and mealy."
Pollie was so grateful to Mrs. Smith for the kind thought, and held out
her money to pay for this luxury; but to her surprise she told her to put
it back into her pocket--the "taters" were a gift for her mother, and
patting her cheek, bade her run home quickly, and always "be a good
gal."
CHAPTER IV.
MRS FLANAGAN.
As Pollie reached her mother's door at last, after all this amount of
shopping had been accomplished, she heard a well-known voice inside,
and knew that Mrs. Flanagan had returned from work, and was now
having her usual little chat with Mrs. Turner.

Good Mrs. Flanagan, who had been so kind to the widow and her child
from the first moment they came to lodge in the room opposite to
hers--good old woman, with a heart as noble and true as the finest
lady's in the land--a gentlewoman in every sense, though not of the
form or manner in which we are accustomed to associate that word.
Years ago she had been a servant in a farmhouse, where she was valued
and esteemed by all as a sincere though humble friend; but Mike
Flanagan won her heart, and she joined her fate to his, leaving the
sweet, fresh country in which she had always lived, and cheerfully
giving up all the old familiar ties of home and kindred for his dear sake.
Mike had constant work in London, with good wages too, as a
carpenter, so though at first London and London ways sadly puzzled
her, yet she soon became used to the change, and they were so
happy--he in his clean, tidy wife, she in her honest, sober husband.
But one day, through the carelessness of a drunken fellow-workman,
some heavy timber fell upon poor Mike, crushing him beneath its
weight, and when next Martha Flanagan looked on her husband's face,
she know he was past